Years Gone By
by IsYourH3artTaken
Summary: I first met him when I was in the third grade. He was my friend and we planned to go trick or treating together that night. But something happened. Our friendship was cut short and he was taken away. I never thought I'd see him again. Until fifteen years later. Michael/OC. Based off Rob Zombie's 2007 remake.


**Rating: M for violence, gore, and explicit language (it's based on the Rob Zombie film afterall).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Halloween franchise, just my OC and her family.**

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_So I may not have had a gothic childhood, but childhood makes its own gothicity. _**- George Saunders  
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**Chapter One: Remembrance of Things Past**

_October 31st, 1990_

**T**he day had started off on a crazy note. I had woken up that morning in a completely foreign city. My family just settled into our new house the night before and we were so caught up in getting our furniture and belongings in place, our heads didn't hit the pillow until a little after midnight. Dragging myself out of bed was hard enough. Imagine going to a new school where everybody knew each other and you were just trying to keep above water. When they talked about it on those Tv movies, I thought they were embellishing.

But boy, was I wrong.

Being only eight, making friends was pretty tough. I entered the new school of Haddonfield, Illinois, as a shy little flower. No one wanted to talk to me after the principal had introduced me as the newest "transfer," à la new kid. I was home schooled for a few years before that and many people developed the preconceived idea that home schoolers were weirdos.

The looks I received while shuffling down the aisle to claim the only open seat were ugly. A pretty, strawberry blonde haired girl in particular gave me the harshest, the kind you would give to the bratty kid who always broke the crayons on purpose and threw candy bar wrappers at the back of your head on the bus.

I buried my face in my pink Hello Kitty folder and tried to focus on the teacher's voice as she spoke. Her name was Ms. Braddock, a tired looking woman but very kind and welcoming.

She called out a question, scanning the desks for any raised hands but was met with none.

"Nothing? Come on, guys, we just went over this," she said, sighing with disappointment.

I peered around both of my shoulders and everyone's head were bowed. I found my chance, and tentatively, I raised my hand.

"Yes, Emilia? Do you know the answer?" Ms. Braddock said.

As if on cue, all the kids snapped their heads to me, and I shrank against my chair, gripping the sides of the table with both hands. Their faces were blank, just daring me to answer with the correct answer or to choke entirely.

I struggled to reply. "Um...I, uh."

The strawberry blonde girl snickered. "What's the matter, retard? Cat got your tongue?" Her friends giggled with her and I dropped my gaze.

"That's enough, Sara," Ms. Braddock chimed in sternly and the kids piped down. She addressed me next. "It's okay if you don't know the answer. You're new here after all, and there's plenty of time for you to catch up."

She went around and sat at her desk, then retrieved black rimmed glasses from its case and put them on. "Now, I want everyone to take out your books and flip to Chapter Five.

We did as we were told without a fuss, though I could tell by some of the long faces that this was not a popular class. I, however, loved to learn new things. Difficult or not.

I wasn't a very imaginative child and boredom often found its way to me. Homework was the only thing that held my attention for more than an hour, albeit my grades were coasting along. Performing under pressure was something I could never do well. And the glares the other kids shot me earlier were enough to shake me in my sneakers and hinder my concentration.

I blinked quickly, leaning forward to get a clearer view on what was printed on the page but the words became bunched and blurred. B's looked like D's and every other letter appeared upside down. I couldn't make it past the first sentence without choking back tears.

It had been so long since I had another episode. I was doing so well. Reading was becoming so much easier, but then again it always was before I ended up having to move away and switch schools. Stress brought it on, and getting it back on track was an unbearably long process.

I needed help.

Biting my lower lip, I slowly raised my hand. "Ms. Braddock?"

She looked up. "Yes, Emilia?"

"I...I can't read this."

"What's the matter, dear?"

I glanced around me and all the students looked up from their textbooks. "I...I have dyslexia."

And everyone exploded into laughter, except Ms. Braddock, who only frowned in pity. "Quiet class," she reprimanded when they all wouldn't stop giggling.

Then she addressed me. "I'm sorry to hear that, Emilia. Why don't you stay after class and we'll go over everything you missed. I'll write up a note explaining why you'll be absent for your next class."

I smiled a tiny bit. "Thanks."

Ms. Braddock returned. "You're welcome, now go back to work until then. The rest of you, continue reading."

I propped up my book and tried my best to make some sense out of it until the bell rang. I was supposed to go to music next, but instead I waited until the classroom was empty and Ms. Braddock was finished collecting papers.

She was so kind and didn't lose her temper or patience when I kept messing up on a certain area. I almost cried again, if she had not given me a Kleenex from her desk.

The other kids would've probably called me pathetic or something like that for crying. I was always called names for not being able to read at a normal pace. After awhile, I just kinda got used to it. But it still hurt, every now and then.

I never told Melissa about it. She usually made friends quicker than I did, and I felt like if I went to her pouting about the whole thing, she'd just blow it off. Moving was hard for her, too. Maybe even harder, since she had actual friends she wwas forced to part with every time we left. My parents would've been an even worse choice. They'd just storm the principal's office and start an uproar.

"Well, that's it for the day," Ms. Braddock announced after our hour went up. She rose from my side and straightened her pencil shirt. "Keep practicing and you'll get better. I guarantee it."

I shoved my book into my backpack and zipped it up. "Thanks, Ms. Braddock!"

She smiled. "You're welcome, sweetie. Now run along, before you miss lunch."

I waved my goodbye and exited through the door. Stickers of pumpkins, ghosts, ghouls and pretty much any scary thing decorated every locker and pin board in the halls. The only one that wasn't styled in the same manner was mine. There was barely enough time to put all my necessities in there in between classes so I was forced to leave it blank.

Checking my watch I realized I only had half an hour until lunch period was over, so I rushed, piling all my books into my locker's top shelf sloppily. After I was done, I made my way to the cafeteria. I wasn't exactly sure where it was, so I just followed the echo of laughing teenagers.

It was crowed. Every table was taken, only two or three had open spots but those looked like the type that needed an invitation in order to get in. I scaled the lunch line, sliding my plate to each drone so they could plop whatever was in their big steaming pots, and move on to the next student behind me. There wasn't very many. I guessed everyone preferred taking food from their homes instead of resorting to eat...whatever mush was on my tray. It looked inedible and smelled even worse.

But I took it with me anyways, snagging a red apple before leaving the line, then ambled along to find a seat. There was a free one near the window that overlooked the vast courtyard so I headed that way, taking careful steps so I wouldn't trip on anything slimy. Students sometimes left sticky or slippery things on the floor to get a good laugh, in case some hopeless soul was oblivious enough not to notice it. It happened to me once at my previous elementary school. I was mocked for days about it.

Sara Collins, the girl who called me a retard in English, giggled with her friends when I walked past. Her entire group stared at me, not trying to be subtle about it, and it made the back of my neck itch. But I tried to ignore and let it roll off my shoulders as I walked to my designated table.

Before I sat down, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, some big Junior High looking kids picking on a younger kid. They took his drink and lifted it up high where he couldn't reach it.

The bullies taunted him. "Come on, limp dick. Want it back? Come and get it."

"Fuck you," the younger kid hissed and I was surprised a response like that coming out of someone so sweet looking like him.

Without thinking, I approached them both. "Hey, leave him alone!"

One of the bullies looked down at me and I clutched my tray close. "Oh, I'm sorry, bro. Is this your girlfriend?" He said, faking intrigue.

The other tall teenager slapped the blonde boy lightly on the cheek, but it looked like it still hurt. "So the little faggot finally got around to getting some pussy, huh?"

"Shut up," the blonde kid muttered, livid blue eyes narrowed into small slits.

"Where did you meet her? In that club where your mom gets plowed?" The curly haired teen said and his friend laughed. The blonde boy said nothing but I could see his hands clench into tight fists.

The bully leaned down so he was eye level with him, voice softer but still cruel. "Did you fuck her?" He whispered, and I began to feel queasy. My fingers felt wet.

The curly haired boy grinned. "You did, didn't you? Where was it at, huh? In the bathroom? Janitors closet? How about behind the jungle gym?"

"Shut the fuck up!" The blonde snapped and raised his fist into the air to punch the curly haired kid but I sprinted to his side before he could do anything.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to tell the principal and you're gonna be sorry," I told his tormentors. The two older boys stared at me, their wide grins dissolving into expressions of panic.

"I'm serious!" I further added, and they scoffed, rolling their eyes at my proclamation.

"Really? I'd like to see you try, you little cu-" The teen was cut off by his friend, who put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's get out of here, man. She's not worth it." He tugged on his sleeve when a cafeteria monitor looked in their direction.

The tall boys glanced at the authority figure then turned back to us. The curly haired one glared at me in particular and I took a step back, sort of halfway hidden behind the blonde one.

"Little bitch," he insulted me and chucked the juice box at my feet, bursting the package and it spilled everywhere. I stood still until they both left our sight, then exhaled deeply. My heart slowed down to a more calmer, steady beat.

I turned to the angry looking blonde kid but he was already staring at me. "Why did you do that?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Do what?"

"Stick up for me."

I knitted my eyebrows together. "Because they were picking on you," I said quietly. "You would have done it for me, right?"

The boy said nothing, and just stared at me with pure incredulity. I didn't know how to take it so I just smiled softly and handed him my own juice box, since his was stolen and destroyed.

"Wanna sit with me?" I offered.

The boy nodded and followed me to the table. I sat down and pulled my hair back into a loose braid so it wouldn't get in the way while I ate. The boy watched me carefully with vacant eyes as I crunched on my apple. Juice dribbled down my chin and I mopped it up with my sleeve.

"How old are you?" I asked to break the silence and out of sheer curiosity.

"Ten," was his low reply.

"You look older," I said. Swallowing, I glanced over my shoulder and saw those two boys harassing a poor freshman girl. They were tugging on her hair and groping her chest.

Turning back to the kid across from me, I asked, "Why do they make fun of you?"

He was glaring at them from under his mess of blonde strands. "Because they're assholes," he said hotly. I cringed at the curseword and swung my feet back and forth. They were too short to hit the floor.

"Why don't you defend yourself?" I told him.

"What's the point? They're not going to stop. They think I'm a freak."

"But you're not," I said to him, and he didn't response, just lowered his head and tendrils of his hair fell in front of his round, chubby face.

I took another bite of my apple and chewed slowly. Neither of us bothered to speak for a while, the overlapping of many voices and laughter drowned both our ears. I grabbed my plastic fork and pushed around what was left of my food. It had long grew cold.

Peeking up at the boy in front of me, I realized he was still staring at the table, expression blank and shoulders slumped.

The bell rang after a few minutes, and all the students began filing out through the double doors. The cafeteria monitor waved at us to get going so I hopped down from my chair and grabbed my backpack. I paused to re-tie a loose shoe lace then stood up, taking my tray.

My blonde friend was looking at me now, and I noticed that he looked so...lonely.

"See you around, okay?" I said nicely, smiling tentatively when he stayed silent. I skipped off to my next class, making it halfway across the room when the boy called after me.

I whirled around as he jogged up to my side, backpack tucked in the crook of one arm. "Hey, uh...do you want to see something something cool after school?" He asked me.

I blinked once. "Like what?"

"Wait for me after school and I'll show you," he said with a hint of mischief.

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, sure." The boy's lips twitched up into a barely visible smile and I realized how cute he really was.

"I'm Emilia," I introduced, remembering that I didn't give my name. "What's your name?"

A beat passed before he answered. "Michael."

0000

**_THREE HOURS LATER_**

I waited just like Michael told me to after school ended. Shooing away my older sister Melissa was more of a hassle than convincing the traffic monitors that I'd be okay sitting by myself on the school steps. I didn't mind being alone. It gave me time to catch up on what I had slacked on since transferring. So I crossed my legs indian style, made myself comfortable, and got out my English book.

Reading sans crowd of whispering peers really took a gander off my stress meter. Words weren't jumbled and I didn't have to re-read a sentence over five times. I periodically glanced up to see if Michael was coming my way, but minutes passed without his presence. I wondered if he was even going to show up at all. Maybe there was an emergency and he had to go home.

After all the students left on the school bus and every car had vacated the parking lot, I began to pack up and stand. But as I was closing my bag, someone surprised me from behind. A hand touched my shoulder, and I twirled around with a semi shriek.

It was Michael.

"Hi," he said shyly, sky blue eyes bright and aware.

"Don't scare me like that!" I exclaimed and playfully smacked him in the arm with my mittens.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to," he said but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. I think he liked scaring people.

"It's okay," I told him and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "What took you so long?"

Michael shifted, looking down at the leaves briefly. "I...I had something to do first," he said cryptically.

I raised my eyebrows but nodded nonetheless. "Oh, okay. So are you still showing me that surprise?"

"Yeah. Come on, let's go."

He led me off the school premise and into the woods. He pulled out a mask from his jacket and slipped it over his face. It was painted white with splashes of red and blue, features twisted into a sadistic grin of a clown.

"Can I try that on?" I asked him, walking faster to keep up with his pace.

"No," he answered bluntly, voice muffled from the plastic.

"Why not?"

"Because it's mine!"

I frowned, stepping over a fallen branch and mumbled, "You're no fair."

Michael turned his head to look at me, eye holes cut so tiny only a flash of blue could be seen. He didn't say anything for a moment, then slowly removed his false face and handed it to me.

"Just for a while," he said.

I beamed and snatched it from his hands, fumbling to put it on. "It won't stay," I whined desperately.

Michael chuckled, a barely audible sound, even to me and I was standing so close to him. "It's supposed to go like this," he said and moved behind me.

I felt his fingers brush against my braid as he hooked the back securely at the back of my ears. When he was done, I turned to view him through the little eye holes. The tight plastic clung to my skin and made it seem like I was being suffocated.

"It feels weird," I remarked.

Michael said nothing and just reached forward to yank the mask away. He quickly put it back on.

"Hey!" I pouted. "I wasn't done."

"I said just for awhile," he told me simply, fixing the fake face so it hung right. He started to walk again and I followed, sticking my bottom lip out a little. We delved deeper in the woods and I lagged behind when I struggled to cross over a big boulder.

"Hurry up!" Michael called when he strayed farther ahead.

"I'm trying!" I said and maneuvered around the large rock, stumbling over the slippery surface. My right shoe lace came undone by the effort, and I knelt down to tie it up.

The small ink black drawings I doodled all over the material of my converses were faded. Smiley faces, stars and hearts had washed away over the years. They were my absolute favorite pair.

"What are you doing?" Michael demanded impatiently, lithe footsteps coming closer to me.

I stood up and fixed the bag strap on my shoulder. "Sorry. I had to tie my shoe."

He didn't say anything and just focused on a patch of skin on my left cheek. Very slowly, he lifted one hand and reached for my face and I instinctively jerked away.

"You got an eyelash right there," Michael explained. "Here, let me." He leaned in closer and swiped the skin beneath my eye stiffly with his forefinger.

I blinked quickly and smiled. "Oh, thanks."

He just nodded and turned around, continuing through the woods to our secret destination. I matched his pace equally this time and we walked in silence until my feet started to hurt and I began to complain.

"How much further, Michael?" I asked.

"We're already here," he said and I heard a tinge of exitement in his voice. "Look, over there," he said, pointing to something on the ground that I couldn't see yet.

"What? What is it?"

As I stepped closer to it, I realized it was coated in a deep red, thick substance...

_blood._

My eyes widened, jaw dropping open. "Wha-what is that?" I asked with a shaky voice.

"It's a squirrel," Michael replied calmly, then picked up a long stick and began poking the body with it.

"It's...it's dead!" I screeched. Dead was actually an understatement. It was flayed open, organs chopped into unrecognizable pieces.

"So?" Michael shot back nonchalantly.

"Why would you show me that?" I demanded, repulsed.

"Cause' it's cool," Michael said and continued to poke the corpse's remains. "Look, here's its heart, spleen-"

I covered my ears. "Ew! Stop! I don't want to hear it!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's disgusting!"

"No, it's not!" He defended, and even though I couldn't see anything beside his eyes, I knew he was frowning behind the mask. Why was he fascinated with dead animals? He acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Death was natural, mutilated animals were not.

It freaked me out.

I shifted with discomfort as he probed the carcass further, blood squirting all over his stick. He looked up at me once and a strange glint appeared in his eyes, then slowly, he picked up the dead squirrel with the stick. He stalked toward me and the light scarf around my neck felt tight.

"Michael?" I said fearfully. "What are you doing?"

He held out the stick. "Come on, just touch it."

"No!" I protested but kept advancing on me with deliberate steps. I started to back away, my sneakers crunching on the damp leaves. "No, Michael! Don't!"

His burned straight through me and I realized with shaky hands that he wasn't going to stop. I felt like one of those poor little foxes you see on _Nat GeoWild_ getting devoured by larger predators. My mind screamed at myself to book, to run out of the woods and never look back.

And I did.

I ran.

Michael went after me, his footsteps were surprisingly quick and agile for such a small boy like him. I heard his ragged, clipped breathing and it made me go faster. I dashed around the water bank, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder to see how close he was. I knew he was right on me. At any second, he could've grasped a fistful of my hair and pitch me to the ground. But when I came toward that huge boulder again, I attempted going around it, then ended up slipping and falling on my hands and knees.

"Ow," I muttered and sifted back to inspect the damage on my palms. They were covered in bloody scratches.

"What happened to you?" Michael's voice appeared out of the blue, making me jump.

I turned to him and glared, thrusting my hands forward. "Look what you did."

"Me? What did I do?" He said.

"If you wouldn't have chased me, I wouldn't have fell!" I said angrily. "Now I'm bleeding."

Michael lifted up his mask. "Let me see," he said and took my hand gently, watching closely as blood seeped out of the cuts. He let it drop after a moment. "It's just blood, you big baby."

I made a face. "Easy for you to say. You like that stuff," I muttered and clenched my hand so no blood could drip on my clothes. Michael watched me for a second, then ripped the scarf from my neck and tore off a chunk.

"Hey, what are you-" I was about to say, but stopped when he gently grabbed my wrist and wrapped my palm in the soft material as a makeshift bandage. "Oh, um, thanks," I murmured but Michael didn't say anything.

After he was done, he let the shreds of my scarf fall to the ground then stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. I surveyed my second level cast and it was tied quite securely.

"I guess I should go now," I announced sadly and walked away to pick up my discarded backpack and when I returned, Michael was still standing there. A part of me said to leave without saying goodbye, but he looked a little remorseful about what he did earlier.

I think he wanted a friend more than anything else. I would've known. I needed the same thing.

"Want to walk me home?" I offered shyly.

Michael raised his head at me, eyes cold and disregarding. But surely, he answered with a soft, "Okay." I smiled and we walked sluggishly out of the woods.

When I took a left hand turn, he grabbed my arm abruptly and hauled me to the right. "No, not that way," he said and his voice was very serious. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

But I was confused. "Huh? Why not?"

Michael pulled me roughly. "Just don't go that way. Follow me, I know a shortcut."

I sighed in defeat. "Fine," I grumbled and followed his lead out of the woods, stepping cautiously over the wet leaves and bits of bark scattered all over the ground. The trees shook above us, rattled by the strong wind and I really wished at that moment that I still had my scarf to keep me warm.

"Where do you live?" Michael asked when we reached the sidewalk.

"423 Westborough Drive," I answered and he walked me down the correct street. We didn't say much to each other and to be honest, we didn't need to. His company was calming to me, and in the back of my mind I hoped he felt the same. Despite our rather rocky start of a friendship, I was really beginning to like him. Weird fascinations and all.

My house came into view after a few blocks, and Michael stopped right in front of the gate. Looking up at his mask, I was going to tell him goodbye but an idea struck me. "What are you doing tonight for Halloween?"

He was silent for a minute. "I don't know. I'll probably stay home."

I frowned. "That's no fun. Why don't you come trick or treating with me?"

Surprise briefly flitted in Michael's bright eyes. "Really? You want me to?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Unless you don't want-" He didn't let me finish.

"Sure," Michael said quickly. "I'll go."

I smiled grandly, resisting the urge to throw my arms around his neck and hug him. "What are you going as?" I asked, and he just tapped the surface of his mask with one finger.

_A_ _clown._

I rolled my eyes and opened the gate latch, walked in then closed it shut. "I'll meet you at your house, okay?" I said and he nodded.

"You got a pen? I'll give you my address," he said. I unzipped my backpack and handed him my green one. He took it and wrote on my palm smoothly.

I studied the numbers when he was done, then looked up and smiled. "Thanks." I turned to go inside but Michael called out my secrecy. "Hey, what about you?"

"Huh?"

"What are you going as?"

I just shook my head. "You'll have to wait and see!" He glared at me through the eye holes and I giggled, waving before running to the door. "See you soon!" I called over my shoulder.

I used my door key then went inside, dropping my backpack at the coffee table near the corner then slid off my mittens. I could hear my sister talking over the phone in the living room, probably tittering about how cute Zachary Taylor was. He was the eighth grade heartthrob.

My mom was in the kitchen and I greeted her happily when I walked in. She kissed my cheek and asked me about my day, which I ignored. I was more fixiated on looking out the window to see if I could catch Michael walk his way home.

But he was gone.

0000

_**LATER THAT NIGHT**_

_8:00 PM_

I ran down the stairs long after the sun went down, holding up the end of my dress with one hand. My hair was pinned up and curled into soft, subtle waves and it threatened to come crashing down with each vigorous bounce.

My mom made such a fuss about what I was going to go as. She opted for Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but to me there was only one Disney princess. I wanted to be the fairest of them all. Snow White.

The costume came with the red ribbon and all. The dress hung a little too long past my feet, but thanks to my mom's ace showing skills, she was able to hem it up in no time. She told me I looked very regal.

"Stand right there, honey. I want to take a picture of you."

I sighed. "Aww, mom. Right now? Michael's waiting for me."

"He can wait a little longer. No go on," she chided.

With a frown, I took my position in front of the door and a few cutesy, little girl poses to please her. And she definitively loved it, but by the tenth camera click, I had enough.

"Mom, please? I have to leave!"

"Alright, alright. I guess I got a little carried away," she said, setting down the camera. She leaned around the corner to call for my sister. "Mel, it's time to go!"

The echoing of the Tv turned off and the squeaky footsteps of my sister's flats tapped all the way to me. She was made up as Alice in Wonderland, cheesy blonde wig and everything. Her face was powdered chalk white and lips were outlined carefully in cranberry red. It was the animation come to life.

"Ready, Em? I have to meet Tim in twenty minutes," she said and handed me the candy buckets.

I nodded and fixed the blue collar of my dress as my mom opened the door for us. Our entire street was alive with orange, red, and black lights and snickering children. Melissa and I bounded eagerly down the steps, holding hands in case one of us tripped. My mom waved at us from the door and told us to be back by nine. My three year old sister Heather was upstairs asleep in her room, and I made a mental note to save a portion of my candy for her.

We rushed to Michael's house, but were stopped a quarter of the way there when two of Melissa's classmates sprinted up to us. They seemed riled up about something, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and the teenage girl need for gossip.

"Mel! Mel!" They said in unison. "Did you hear what happened at school?"

"No," Melissa answered guardedly, still holding my hand. "What's the deal?"

The two girls came closer, voices dropped to a whisper. "Wesley Rhoades was found _dead_ in the woods earlier this afternoon."

I gripped my sister's hand tighter and she did the same. All the blood rushed to my face, and looking up at Mel, I realized her face too had gone ashen. Her lips parted but no words came out. It looked as if she were about to faint. I tugged on her hand but she did nothing.

Instead, she just huddled close with her friends and started chatting so lowly, I couldn't understand what they were saying. Minutes ticked by, and I became restless, rocking back and forth on my heels. Every kid that was zipping past us already had their bags filled to the top with candy and I still had yet to meet Michael.

He was waiting for me and I was wasting time.

I nagged at my sister's side, but she shooed me away with her hand, too involved with whatever her girlfriends were spewing at her. I clutched my candy bucket close, shivering when a gust of wind chilled the exposed skin on my arms.

The street Michael lived on was just down the block. I could've easily walked there by myself but I knew my sister would flip if I ran off without her and she would've definitely told mom, which could not happen.

But Michael was waiting for me.

And time kept passing us by. After what seemed like a half hour, Melissa finally said goodbye to her friends and took my hand again. I asked her what they were talking about but she brushed it off and broke into a jog, forcing me to try to keep up with her. We rounded the corner and the light illuminating from Michael's home was only a few houses down.

I parted from Melissa once I reached the gate and ran up to the door. She called from the road that she would be across the street in case I needed her.

I fixed my outfit, patted down my hair, then took a deep breath before softly knocking. There was no activity for a while until I heard someone stumbling around then the door swung open, revealing a masked Michael. He lifted it off his face.

I smiled and apologized for the delay. "Sorry I'm late. My sister was talking to her friends and-"

Michael interrupted. "You can't be here," he deadpanned.

"But why?" I asked. "It's still pretty early so maybe we can go-" I became distracted by a long knife he held in one hand, stained and dripping with something I didn't realize right away. He caught me staring at it and quickly hid it behind his back.

"Go home," he said stoically.

"What were you doing?" I asked, well aware of the weapon concealed behind him.

"Nothing," he replied just as coldly.

"Then why can't you come out?" I asked.

"I just can't, okay? Go home."

"But-"

"Go home, Emilia!" He snapped then slammed the door shut, snicking the lock. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there stupidly staring at the wood. My vision became blurred. Tears brimmed the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away.

_He hates me,_ I realized with sadness. Michael hated me and probably never wanted to talk to me again. He thought I ditched him, and now wanted nothing to do with me.

_I lost my friend._

Sniffling and swallowing down a river full of tears, I turned and descended down the porch steps. Kids in costumes were running all over the streets with their friends and I could see Melissa just across the sidewalk. An elderly woman was giving out candy to her group.

My little orange pumpkin bucket was empty and I felt all the desire to have fun slowly draining from me. I needed to go home.

Wiping my left eye with the back of my hand, I safely crossed the road until I came into Melissa's group. She waved and held up her gigantic pillow case filled with all kinds of goodies with a triumphant grin. All I could do was smile weakly. At least she was having fun.

I trailed behind her and her friends, not bothering to go up to each door with them, until we eventually went home. As we departed from Lampkin Lane, I spared one last look down the block, my eyes settling on Michael's window. The curtain was drawn back halfway and he was peering through the small opening, mask still askew. Our eyes connected for a fleeting second before the curtain fell again and I could no longer see him.

That was the last time I saw Michael Myers.

* * *

**A/N: Okay so, the time gap between Michael's breakout varied on the sources I checked. Some said 17, 16, then finally 15. I decided to take artistic license and go with the original fifteen year lockup. This follows the 2007 remake but there will be original killing scenes and some key events will be moderately changed. It's definitely going to be a slow burn, as I imagine fostering any sort of a relationship with Michael would be extremely problematic, haha. :D But romance _will_ happen!  
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**So what do you think? Would you be interested in reading more? If not, I could always leave it as a oneshot.**

**Let me know! (:**

**Sorry if there's any typos.**


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